San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-09-08
CHATTER N.

| Notwithstanding my conversation with
Mr.. GaScOigne, when AnniS next invited me
| TO go with her TO GabTiel's Walk, | refused.
| "Viola," she cried, you must not refuse
mel What can do? Ililda says she will not
help me any longer and cannot 20 by my
self. thought you were To be my friend y
Are you sure il Is friends part to 20
with yOu?'
| Yes" she said. IL am not afraid Of my
uncle. would not give up Uric for all the
uncles and all the riches In the world. You
| do not think he suspects anything? lie has
| not forbidden you to go with me, has he?"
No, he has not forbidden me. | would
not do anything for which | feared dScOv-
cry. II go, Annis any one who chooses may
| tell Mr.. Gascoigne, so far as | am concern
| ed"
"Then you will come. knew you could
not be so cruell Whatever happens, Viola,
| you shall rot suffer; when Uric and are
married, you shall live with us and be my
| companion
Still | hesitated.
'You have another sister," said-"I.ady
| Martin. Would she not 90 with you 10 meet
your cousin"
IL have not asked GwendOline," answer
ed Annis. But know she would refuse.
She says am a fool to throw away my lib
erty by getting married. Poor GwendOline
| She does not know how good Uric is. But
she herself is married, so her real reason
must be fear of angcring uncle Richard"
So went with AnniS-nOt that day only,
but often afterwards. Sometimes Uric was
alone, and we would all w"'k and talk mer.
rily together. Sometimes, and more fire.
Quently his brother Gilbert came with him.
Was it not natural then that we should leave
the lovers, and should ramble together by
the lake and the park sideP
How loved that gloomy dark water with
the wild INTENDED evergrrens by its bank,
and that low stone wall, with Its gray
lichens and soft green moss, and the little
postern-gate on one side of which only was
liberty to us all!
We watched the first buds of spring-time
open on the Overhanging trees that shad-
owed the lane, the soft dropping catkinS Of
the willow, about which the bees clustered
thick, and the aSh-1Owers as they changed
from close blackbcrry-like heads into hang
ing clusters, and the bursting green sheath
of the chestnut, and the soft pale leaves Of
the lime. Ii was In that lane that the
thrushes and blackbirds sang their sweetest,
and a nightingale had its nest in the cOpse
by the waterside. There the first violet
opened its scented flowers, and the earliest
primrose was pulled to be placed in my
dress. | have that primrose still. There
never were found flowers so sweet as those
that grew in Gabriel's Walk; there never
were heard birds songs so sweet as those
We listened to that spring.
"What is the meaning of the song
That rings so clear and loud,
Thou nightingale amid the cOpes,
Thou lark above the cioud2'
l seemed to be living two lives through
that sweet spring-tide at st. Gabrel's Grange.
One life was formed of the strange monOtO-
nous hours speat in Mr.. GlscOigne's room,
the other Of those in the company of Lady
Martin POmerOy and her sisters, and those
walks with Annis.
One day met GwcndOline in the hall, in
her brown hOmeSpun walking-dresS, and
noticed that she was alone.
Shall | go with you, Lady Martin"
asked, 'if Miss FarquhaT is not gOing?'
"Hilda is not inclined for walking" she
answered quickly. 81 thought you would
be with Mr.. GascOigne at this time"
ale does not want me this afternoon.
can be ready in a few minutes. Shall come
with your"
"Why doesn't he want you?" she said
sharply. Am | never to go without keep
er? You can tell him, Miss ThOrne, that
am taking my maid"
AS she spoke, Mathilda appeared from the
inner hall, and her black eyes glanced in
sOlently at me as she passed. / liked this
French maid of Lady Martins less and less
the bold stare of her eyes was at variance
with the servility of her manner. She was
not very young, and she always dressed
with irreprOachable neatRess, and was I'M
questiOnably clever at her business. Natural
ly cOntrasted Lucy, fresh-faced cOuntri-
fled Lucy and her round rosy cheeks and
respectful frankneSs, with this sallOw-Skin-
ned, crafty-lOOking FrenchwOman.
remember that night Mr.. Garden was at
the Grange, and | wondered whether my
prejudiceS were growing strong through Sc
clusiOn in the old house, because diSliked
more than ever his confident smile and his
easy talk. For, as days had gone on and
saw more of this man, my antagOniSm grew
frmer The idea that Mr.. GascOigne's Sc
crets were cOnfided TO him was hateful to
me; and he never lost an opportunity OF re-
minding me that everything | knew and
more besides was known TO him, that we
were in league as the old mans infOrmers,
while felt certain that on his part con
fidences" was but another word for lies. l
knew that he and Mathlde had met more
than once as he was leaving the Grange,
and | presumed she was also spy, either
in the service of Mr.. GascOigne or Mr.. Car
den-the latter, | fancied, for Mr.. GascOigne
had a hatred of everything foreign, and
would not, thought, with all his eccen-
tricity, sink so low as to encourage the tale
bearing of servant.
said nothing of what / saw. Anything
was preferable to taking part in the detesta-
BILE and to me insuppOrtable system Of espi-
Onage maintained over the three uncOn-
scious girls and the nephews of Mr.. Gas
cOigne. could convey no warning to them
without breaking my promise to my en-
plOyer.
As / look back, almost wonder how |
bore those dreary evenings, the perpetual
chess of which was sick, and which SEEM
ed to have absorbed almost all the faculties
and senses of the old man, and began to
think sometimes would take all mine also.
1t chained my thoughts and my mind for
hours, while behind the play lurked the
figures of those who were to be checkmated
in the game of life-my friends. Once and
again it seems to me even yet that must
go back into that wainscOted par,Or, and sit
down by the Queen Anne chess-table, in the
high-backed chair, and watch the thin white
hands of my master poised over the ivory
pieces, or the fire in the great hearth with
the history of J Seph on the tiles, the gloomy
tapestry, and the shining armOr, and the
dark treacherous face Of Crawford Garden.
In those days nervous dread of Garden